


Of Crimson Lips and Navy Dresses

by ninehundredthousandfinalwords



Series: Of Broken Shields and Cracked Armor [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-08-18 21:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninehundredthousandfinalwords/pseuds/ninehundredthousandfinalwords
Summary: Toni Stark spins herself an impenetrable web over the years, protected by layers and layers of betrayal, longing and maybe, just maybe, the slightest hint of love.ORIf Toni Stark became a swimmer beyond her years and beyond anything she could ever imagined, and might just have earned herself some love along with it.





	1. 200 meter bruising freestyle.

When she was four years old, Jarvis took her to her mother's room and, coughing from the cold he had developed a week earlier, took out a children's book he spread over his lap. He set her down beside him on a bright yellow plastic chair, put a small amount of peanut butter on crackers before her, and began to read, weaving a tale of a brave prince who saved a beautiful princess from a terrifying dragon. Ma'am, sitting in the corner, gave a disdainful sniff and sipped away at a tall cocktail that seemed to consist mostly of vodka and less cranberry juice.  
Her eyes were wide, beautiful brown orbs shimmering with fascination. When he finished, Jarvis gave her a gentle smile and asked her what she thought. He was quite surprised when she shook her head stubbornly, raven curls flying everywhere, and said four words.  
"I don't like it."  
He raised a dark eyebrow. "Why, young miss? Is the story not to your liking?"  
She nodded. "I think the princess was too naive, thinking that she knew for sure the prince was going to come. What if he didn't love her as much as he claimed? Of course, it seems like he did, but what if he only killed the dragon to show his people he was brave? What if he doesn't love the princess at all, and married her only for her beauty? I think it was not true love, this story, it was, rather, true lust."  
Jarvis was silent. Then he gave her a small, helpless smile.  
"No, we do not know if he truly loved her. We can only assume, but assuming is enough for us now, is it not?"  
She shook her head. "If she doesn't know for sure, she should leave him. Besides, does the princess even love the prince? Maybe her so-called love was just admiration."  
Jarvis looked at Ma'am, with high arching cheekbones and steel grey eyes, and then at Natasha, with soft chocolate ones.  
He sighed and took Natasha back to her room.

 

When she was six years old, Jarvis told her the story of Katherine and the Taming of the Shrew.  
"Bianca was this beautiful, gentle woman. But Katherine was older, wiser, more beautiful, and now? She was gentler. But this kindness had been achieved with terror and pain. It is not truly kindness, you see, but fear. And that's why Petruchio was wrong."  
Toni, who had long since graduated first grade and now lived long blissful days of high school and ignorance, cocked her head to the side. "But if he did it through ambition and careful planning, doesn't he deserve this Katherine's love? Besides, if she truly hated him, she would kill him."  
The statement shocked Jarvis to the core. Was Natasha implying that Petruchio was right?  
"Miss, I, don't know what to say..."  
She shrugged. "Sir already told me the story. I expressed an opinion similar to yours, but he hit me and said I would always be wrong, so, you know. Besides, I already think of you as more of a father than Sir." she shrugged again, the sleeve of her white blouse slipping off her shoulder to expose creamy skin marred with bruises.  
Jarvis' breath hitched. How could anyone even bear to lay a finger on this wonderful, beautiful, sweet, larger-than-life child? Who would be willing to hurt such an innocent and young genius? This six-year-old prodigy who already knew how to build entire computers by hand with the flick of her pinky?  
"I do enjoy the story though, and I find it's a good story to tell children."  
He spoke before even realizing, and abruptly closed the book and took Natasha to her room.  
It was only hours later that he realized she had called him her father, and a warm glow of happiness began to spread from his core.

"Jarvis?"  
"Yes, miss?"  
"Would you be so kind as to inform me of the story of Don Quixote?"  
"Miss, you know I cannot refuse you."

The argument Sir and Ma'am had that night was loud, jarring, with crashes and screams echoing across the manor, and it only got worse once the red-lipped, curly-haired whirlwind that was Peggy Carter joined it. She interrupted Sir's yelling and Ma'am's shrill screams with a rapid 'not now, you two' and endless words of how Steve Rogers would be disappointed in them both poured from her scarlet-clad mouth. Sir went ghost white and Ma'am started crying. When she swept from the room she looked over her shoulder and glared at them both.  
"Now don't you forget you have a daughter as well!" she roared fiercely before she slammed the door and stalked out of the manor.  
Jarvis took an instant liking to her. 

"Jarvis?"  
"Yes, miss?"  
"Please, read Robin Hood to me."  
"What, miss, you thought I would have said no?"

When she was eight years old, she began swimming.  
She took to the swimming pool just as easily as she took to screws and nuts and soon she was racing against twelve-year-olds.  
Jarvis watched with a heavy pride in his heart as she sprinted down a 50-metre stretch of water to slam her palm against the wall, far in first place. He leapt to his feet with the parents, clapping as the others slowly made their way to where she was already climbing out. Technically it wasn't allowed, but she was a Stark, and no one would ever dare disqualify a Stark, even if that Stark had outright killed a person underwater.  
He noticed Sir and Ma'am already leaving, not even staying for her medal ceremony. He clenched his fists, then let them go with a sigh.  
It was a miracle he even got them to video the place.

"Jarvis?"  
"Yes, miss?"  
"Please tell me about the Vestal Virgins."  
"I'll never stop, miss."

"Jarvis?" she asked that night as he treated the black eye one of the other girls had given her.  
"Yes, miss?"  
"Can you call me Toni instead of Natasha or miss?"  
He stopped, then continued applying soothing ointment. "Why, if I may ask, Toni?"  
"Because Toni sounds friendlier, and if my name sounds friendlier, maybe the other girls on my swim team will be nicer to me."  
He clenched his fists, for what seemed like the seventieth time that day, and sighed.  
"Of course, Toni. Of course."

 

When she was ten years old, she won her official twentieth gold medal and stood blankly with her parents at her side as important figures stood before her, congratulating her. Jarvis saw everything, from the way Sir's hand tightened on her arm whenever she smiled at someone or Ma'am's nails digging into her soft skin. His anger was shown only in little puffs of air escaping from between his lips, and when she got to the car he took an extra sneak peek at the bruising. He winced. Guess he'd have to call in again explaining why Toni couldn't come to practice tomorrow.

"Jarvis?"  
"Yes, Toni?"  
"Can you tell me what you think happened to Katherine?"  
"Always."

 

Peggy and Jarvis had been conversing for years, but never had she cried. Jarvis stood there, not knowing what to do, as Peggy broke down sobbing on Toni's bed, holding the youg girl after she asked what shade Steve's eyes were.  
He knew the two were involved romantically by the shade of longing in Peggy's eyes whenever she mentioned him, and the posters and newspaper clippings she had of him in her room, but he didn't know what to do now.  
But apparently Toni did.  
She wrapped her arms around Peggy's waist and pulled her close, not saying anything and closing her eyes. Peggy's brown orbs flew wide open, then relaxed before hugging the girl back.  
There was nothing but raw affection and admiration in the embrace, and Jarvis left the room, smiling to himself.  
If he was her father, then Peggy was her mother.  
Sir and Ma'am were nothing but forgotten, distant relatives, unable to disturb the bliss of their happy family.

"Jarvis?"  
"Yes, Toni?"  
"Tell me about A Midsummer Night's Dream."  
"Of course."

The night of the gala brought Jarvis to his knees, tending to her fever with a gentle hand. He was due to disembark in less than five minutes but he was hesitant to leave this fragile child in the hands of no one, Peggy being out of the country and the maids off on day leave, even if it was only for an hour or so.  
"I'll be fine, Jarvis."

Later, in his dying moments, he cursed himself for being so naive, so stupid, for being just as believing and foolish as that princess from the story, so many years ago.


	2. 200 meter uncertain butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, this is just a slight variation of the original story. Nothing changes except for the fact that Toni and Steve are good swimmers and once considered entering the Olympics, although I didn't include that part. I might do a second side story involving no Avengers and just a cheesy Olympic romance, should I?

When Toni heard about Jarvis' death, she could not, would not believe it. Jarvis was a guardian angel, with a soul of silver and a heart of gold. He was so good, there was no way he could be dead. But she did not cry. Maybe she couldn't, maybe she wouldn't, but she didn't cry.

She kicked and fought her way through her teens and twenties in a whirling mass of sex, drugs and alcohol, amazing grades and robots, graduating from MIT at seventeen and leaving her brass rat in the edge of her closet in a box, never bothering to wear it. The Avengers were formed, friends were made, she and Rhodey knocking those rings together once, on the tenth year anniversary of her graduation. She couldn't bother going to the reunion. She knew they would hate her. She wasn't stupid.

She was a hurricane, unparalleled in her destructive capabilities, ripping through life like a tornado. Even though Stark Industries no longer made weapons, there were still times when she looked in the mirror, pulled on her repulsor glove and shattered the glass into a million tiny pieces. She flew like an unparalleled bird, carrying a knife in its stomach that refused to fall away, unnoticing of the pain. 

She was twenty-eight. Twenty-eight years of age and she still hadn't figured out a way to recover.

Afghanistan was almost as scarring as Jarvis' death, with blood and pain and death and tears, tears nightly with a car battery stuck in her chest, gasps hourly with her head stuck in a place she couldn't trust herself to breathe in.

So when she told herself to get over it and dove into the pool on the 48th floor of the Avengers Tower, she felt only a moment of panic before pleasuring, orgasmic relief crashed over the top of her head and she started swimming, letting her arms slice through the water.

Then something sparked within her, or rather, she felt the presence of someone next to her and suddenly she was sprinting, sprinting full speed down the fifty meter stretch of clear blue liquid, front crawl switching to butterfly, her natural stroke and as she felt the wave of another butterfly swimmer crash into her side she responded with equal strength, unyielding, strong like a resilient piece of nature, soaring through the water like it was nothing at all, open turns, flip turns, whirling through a hard 200 meters of pure joy before she came to a screeching halt, her muscles singing, her mind clear and refreshed.

Only then did she remember, the blood and sand of Afghanistan, and collapsed against the side of the pool, eyes wide and haunted, trying to climb out but her previously energized body was jelly, and her hair stuck to her face and she was aware of the fact that somewhere along the line, she had lost the strap of her goggles and she couldn't see-

Warm, strong human arms wrapped themselves around her and she sank into their embrace, never caring of the needle that was inserted into her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so short, I was in a hurry to churn these things out since school and work have been getting hectic!  
> Also, I want to do two updates today: this chapter and a small tribute to the father of Marvel: Stan Lee.  
> Thank you for being who you are, and we hope we see you in the next life!  
> Excelsior!


	3. Never ending downward spiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short!

Toni wakes up in her enormous king-size bed, pillows fluffed and placed beside her head, blankets strewn messily. She stares at the New York skyline outside her massive wall-lined window, watching the birds fly by. After a while, she directs her attention to the bedside dresser.  
A bottle of antidepressants and two anxiety tablets sit beside a tall glass of water. A note is propped against it.  
Take the anxiety tablets with two sips. Wait approximately one minute, then take one antidepressant with the rest of the water.  
-Steve

Underneath, stapled to the heavy cardstock is a light sketch of her, evidently ripped out of a sketchbook. The paper is lighter, smoother, and when she brushed her thumb over the surface the charcoal smeared a little.  
She lay on her side, cheek squished against the back of her hand, face rosy, long brown hair spread across the pillow like a piece of silk. The drawing makes her look like some kind of goddess. Bright. Elegant.   
Not broken.  
She laughs humorlessly. Takes the pills. Stands, despite the dizziness, as a sort of rebellion against the pure kindness of this man. She knows he hates her.  
But yet he's doing this.  
Why?  
She puts on a simple navy pantsuit, brushes her hair back into a ponytail. She can smell the chlorine radiating off of her, and the scent, however comforting it was to her, disgusts her, so she sprays some of the expensive perfume Pepper got her for her birthday.  
Now she smells like fake Italian flowers. She winces, but forces herself into sharp pointy high-heels before making herself a coffee and heading downstairs. The small bump on the side of her neck tells her they only administered a tranquiliser, but why they would have one on them during what was supposed to be a friendly team swim session defeated her.  
The elevator dings, Friday greeting her good morning as she steps into the thankfully empty kitchen. She glances at the clock.  
"9:57..."  
She makes a piece of toast, spreading a couple forkfuls of kale jam on top and frowning at the bitter vegetable taste. The AI informs her of a board meeting she has in twenty minutes, so she makes her way to the office and clicks a couple things on her computer absentmindedly. The council pops up before her, holographic screens of an angry Ross & Co. She takes a deep breath and smirks, putting on her usual confident and cocky facade.  
"Well, Secretary, what could have I possibly done to incur the honor of your frankly annoying presence?"

\----

She closes the call in the middle of a sentence, feeling sassy. Out of sheer boredom, she heads to the workshop, even though she's not in the mood to tinker with anything. Besides, she's in too fancy of an outfit. Her bathroom beckons her, screaming at her to take a shower. Finally she relents, stripping and stepping into the air-shower. She cleans her hair and skin of any lingering traces of chlorine and pool water, and climbs into a new pantsuit.   
"Friday, where's the rest of the team?"  
"They have been called away on mission, Miss."  
"Thanks, Fri."  
She sighs and changes out of the pantsuit into a tank top and jeans, ready for a day spent in the workshop. She heads down to floor 87, passing Bruce's lab (which he isn't in) and unlocks her own. Heading to the table, she goes right to work on the Mark 51, slipping the headset over her eyes and making sure the plates are calibrated.  
It's not until her eyelids begin to droop that she realizes it must be well-past 2 am by now, and that she's starving. She hurries a sandwich together and goes right back to work. By the next morning, she's done.  
She sighed and leapt into the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know, air-showers are relatively new inventions that blow hot air around the user instead of water. They're usually used for cleanrooms and go for around 17000, but Toni got one specially made so that it was basically a normal shower without the water. It's more efficient at getting stuff out, and if you were to buy one identical to Toni's, it would probably be around 68000 dollars to a million.  
> These things are pretty expensive, huh!


	4. She's there, but she's not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heh heh heh  
> months of not updating  
> death  
> heh heh heh  
> nervous laughter  
> sorry this sucks so much, my betas are sick and tired of my shit, and i was like you know what, screw it, you deserve a break  
> and so i was like "if its bad, it'll be bad."  
> i swear i could hear them sigh over text  
> lol  
> lol

hello!  
sorry this isn't a chapter, i just wanted to say that i no longer have any inspiration for this story, and i guess i'm not as big a marvel fan as i was a couple months ago, so i'll be focusing on other fandoms. maybe if i feel like it i'll find it in me to pour out a oneshot every now and then, but i'm not sure.  
thank you to everyone!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOO!!!!  
> I'm thinking of marking this complete.  
> And, like, all my older works along with this.  
> Because frankly, they all suck.  
> So. Like. Yeah, I'm doing it.


End file.
